


Offer Up Your Throat

by CrowsandCooks



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Arson, Asexual Character, Bare knuckle fighting, Blood, Drug Use, Drugs, Emotional Manipulation, Flirting, Gen, Jason may feel different tho, Keith's doing good, Kinda but not really, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Pliers, Riley is a good brother, Suicide Attempt, Teeth, Torture, a terrible version of, attempts of, but little brothers ARE little brothers, cause yeah, did i mention drugs?, don't eat cocaine like candy, enough, healthy..., jason being a good friend, like weed, like wow, lots of, lots of blood, may or may not be human, meet cute, mention of face fucking, mixing drugs with alcohol, people being set on fire, physical affection, pretty graphic, the person who does so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowsandCooks/pseuds/CrowsandCooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason opened the door and blinked.</p><p> </p><p>Keith’s room wasn’t large but it was bigger than the typical college student’s and much more organised. Two book cases, side by side, in the farthest corner of the room, filled to the brim with books. A desk and chair in front of the large window, beside one of the book case. A large closet in the opposite corner and the queen size bed in the middle. Photographs and posters on the walls and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. Pretty ordinary.</p><p> </p><p>If it wasn’t for the bleeding body on the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The  Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that their reality is anything but our own.

 

Jason opened the door and blinked.

 

Keith’s room wasn’t large but it was bigger than the typical college student’s and much more organised. Two book cases, side by side, in the farthest corner of the room, filled to the brim with books. A desk and chair in front of the large window, beside one of the book case. A large closet in the opposite corner and the queen size bed in the middle. Photographs and posters on the walls and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. Pretty ordinary.

 

If it wasn’t for the bleeding body on the bed.

 

A strait-razor laid on the blood stained sheets, the man slumped against the headboard of the bed, both his wrists and palms turned and open. A thick long red vertical line from the wrist to the inner elbow in each arm. He probably nicked the artery, Jason let out a whistle, the butchering of his arms ensured that. Buck stirred at the sound.

 

“Wooow” Jason stated, he put the ten litre can on the ground. He stepped to the bed and touched the sheets. Judging by the wetness on his black gloves, he had at least fifteen more minutes. “I heard that the pain is so bad that most people pussy out after the first arm.” He commented. “I mean, the few that slit their wrists the right way”

 

But Buck wasn’t like most people, was he?

 

Buck looked up, his face pale and clammy. “Keith?” he whispered. His head slumped down. “Is that you, Keith?”

 

Jason clenched his fists and exhaled. He took up the can and opened it. He tossed the contents all over room and on the bed. Buck coughed, the smell of gasoline in the air.

 

“Look what you made me do, Keith!” Buck screamed, his voice weak and hoarse. He lifted up his arms, blood leaked from the torn veins. “This all your fault!”

 

Jason walked to the other side of the bed and poured the remainder on Buck’s head. He grabbed Buck’s hand and curled it to hold the handle of the can.

 

“You underestimate him” Jason chimed, digging through his pockets. Buck was not broken; Buck was not misunderstood. “You’re a rabid dog, Buck”, he pulled out a cigarette and a box of matches. He put it in Buck’s mouth and lit it. The stick was limp but it was enough.

 

Jason stepped back and lit another one. He tossed the match in Buck’s lap and watched a ring of fire burst to life.

 

Buck screamed and Jason tossed the match box on the bed. He shut the door behind him, the smell of smoke still in his nostrils.

 

xxx

 

Jason wasn't a good person.

 

In another universe, such a fact may have bothered him.

 

In this one?

 

Not at all.

 

Jason yawned and sat up on the couch. He glanced at the blue and grey powder piled on a blank paper on the coffee table. Next to the pile was a scale and a sheet of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” stickers next to his cell. He licked his finger and stuck it in the pile. He tasted it and made a face.

 

“Too sweet”

 

He picked up the paper carefully and placed it on the scale. “Five grams, exact” he muttered under his breath. He packaged it in a plastic bag and tied it with a green ribbon. Taking a pair of scissors, he curled the ribbons and placed on a sticker. It looked very professional.

 

“What’s that?”

 

Jason looked up to Keith, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The younger man bent over on the couch and rolled himself on to the seats. Jason studied him, Keith laid on the couch, his legs in Jason’s lap.

 

“You slept in the bed?”

 

Keith paused, he looked at the bag on the coffee table. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft. “It got easier” Jason nodded and leaned back. Keith pointed at the bag. “What’s that?” he repeated.

 

“Five grams of candy flavoured cocaine” Jason answered, he took the bag up.

 

Keith froze. Jason tilted his head. It was an interesting scene; it was as if Keith’s heart had stopped.

 

“W-what the fuck man?” Keith spluttered. He sat up. “What the fuck are you doing with that?” Jason blinked and looked back at the bag of cocaine. He turned back to Keith, pointing at the big colourful sticker.

 

“It’s a birthday gift” he stated as if it was obvious (it was). “I don’t do hard drugs, Keith” They made him stabby which, if he remembered correctly, people prefer him not to be, even if they did deserve a knife between the ribs (especially if they deserved it). Keith sighed and slouched back into the couch, his knees up to his chest. Jason hummed and put the bag down.

 

“What flavours?”

 

“She likes Strawberry and Raspberry”

 

“She?”

 

“The birthday girl” Jason grinned, Bala was going to love it. “I think this can last her a day at least”

 

“A day!” Keith coughed, thumping his chest. “Wouldn’t that cause an overdose?”

 

“It’s candy flavoured. That means that the quality is poorer and more expensive.”

 

“Still, five grams is a lot for one person to snort...I think”

 

Jason tapped his chin. Bala was average size and pretty fit (extreme drug usage aside), after all he had seen her snort eight lines of (normal) coke before placing four blotters on her tongue and taking five shots of white rum straight. Yeah, he leaned back, she would be fine. Plus, this was candy flavoured, she was probably going to eat this shit raw.

 

“So... when’s this birthday?”

 

“The first of next month”

 

His phone chimed, he tapped the screen and picked up the remote.

 

“Time for news”

 

Keith perked up.

 

_“Thanks, Jose. I am currently standing here at -"  
_

 

“Were you able to avoid the cameras?” Keith asked, eyes never leaving the news reporter. He was curled up in the couch, body burrowed in Jason’s side. Jason pet his head, eyes on the phone as he scrolled through it.

 

_“Where a fire has broken out but thanks to neighbours, firemen were able to reach in record time and keep the blaze contained. As you can see the flames have just been extinguished and the firemen are now searching -”_

 

“Yeah”

 

The reported froze for a moment, she touched her ear and began to speak again,

 

_“I have just been informed that they have found a body in the room”_

 

Jason felt as Keith’s body went rigid. “What the fuck, Jason, what the fuck?” Keith muttered, his voice getting louder and louder. Jason sighed and put his phone down. Keith flung himself at the other side of the couch, tears in his eyes. “What the fuck did you do, Jason!”

 

_“Based on the evidence seen, fire-fighters suspect that the fire was caused as a means to commit suicide”_

 

Keith stopped and glanced at the flat screen on the wall. He ran his hands through his hair, breathing hard. Jason waited, he didn’t approach him. He didn’t try to calm him. That wasn’t Keith, so he waited.

 

“Who was it?”

 

“Buck.”

 

Keith blinked. He blinked again and his face relaxed. “Bro, did you?” he gestured at the television. Jason shook his head and yawned.

 

“You told me not to”

 

“So he actually...”

 

“He thought I was you” Jason replied. “He started to scream how it was your fault that he did it.” He turned to Keith, “There was so much blood.” He tried not to grin, he really did. “Do you know how much pain he was in? You know, before I set him on fire.”

 

“So...you didn’t kill him?...you just...”

 

“Didn’t help him” Jason finished, if Buck couldn’t escape the fire that was everything but Jason’s fault. “I think he was trying to guilt you”

 

“Abusers often use threats of self-harm or suicide to emotionally blackmail or guilt their victims to return to them” Keith echoed. He burst into laughter, “The fucker thought I would care?” he clutched at his stomach. “Holy shit, how delusional can you be? Why the fuck would I care about my rapist?”

 

Keith was beaming. Jason smiled. His friend was happy. Keith leaned against him.

 

“He’s really dead, huh?” he repeated, a whimsical tone in his voice. “There’s nothing left.” Nothing left to tie him down, not his apartment filled with horrible memories and not the man who created them.

 

Jason hummed again.

 

Jason may not have been a good person but he was a great friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had writer's block and as such, wrote this. The title was the prompt.
> 
> I had about fifty tabs open up in one browser filled with random research.
> 
> I should sleep 
> 
> *lies on the ground and knocks out*


	2. The  Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say, their reality is pretty interesting.

Bala loved her gift, Jason expected that. What he did not expect was Bala eating the cocaine with her hands **like a goddamn six-year old**.

 

She was sitting on a couch, her legs folded under her, her hair was loose, purple and green coils bouncing freely as she licked the coke of her fingers. Bala glanced at him, her dark brown eyes barely dilated.

 

“Best gift ever!” she chirped, the flashing lights coloured her dark brown skin in purples and blues. He leaned forward to hear her better over the loud chatter and music. “I can’t find the fucking dealer no more” she mumbled between bites, powder spilling on her shirt and shorts. “How did you?”

 

“I know a guy” Jason answered. She rolled her eyes but leaned against him. “Happy Birthday, Hell Spawn” he told her, flinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “I hope your overworked prune of a liver doesn’t fail you and your shriveled black heart doesn’t stop beating for many years to come”

 

Bala flung her head back and cackled. “I’d probably live long enough to piss on your grave” she retorted. “I’m older than you, guppy”. She just didn’t act like it. She licked her hands clean and tied the bag up. He noted that the bag was halfed. She made a gesture and one of the guards, standing around them, took it from her and another handed her a wet wipe. She wiped her hands clean and tossed it into his expecting hands.

 

“Are you going to stay for the games?” she asked, knocking off her clothes. Jason shrugged.

 

“Depends on the games”

 

“Some indoor fights, bare knuckle contest, knife boards, poker, Russian roulette” she stood up. “I’m sure I saw some fuckers playing five finger fillet” She peered, over the railing, at the crowd below them. “I would offer you some drugs but my some of my men are still healing from the last time”

 

Jason coughed. “I guess I could stay” he stood and went to her side. At the farthest corner of the room where four people, two men and two women, sitting at a table with a crowd of people around them. One of the women put a gun to the table, one of the men took it up and pointed it at his neck. “The bullet real?”

 

“Nah,” she waved her hands. “The bullet is a tranquilizer.” The man fell to the ground and the crowd roared with frustration and joy. She glanced at him, “You wanna fight”. It wasn’t a question.

 

Jason rubbed his hands, “I mean, I could if you insist”. She snorted and pulled on his shirt.

 

“Liar, your blood is boiling” she grinned, the gold grill fangs on her bottom teeth gleamed at him. “Katy!”

 

One of the guards came up, she was dressed like the rest, a simple suit and black tie. She was of Indian descent and looked younger than Jason but she stood like a soldier. “Boss?” she answered, Jason was disappointed that she didn’t do a salute. Bala turned to her.

 

“Has it started?”

 

“We waited for you”

 

Bala gushed and pat her on the cheek. “I love that you did.” she pushed Jason forward. “Be a dear and enter my precious little white boy” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

 

“Precious?”

 

“As can be” Bala answered with a closed lip smile. She shooed the two away, looking around and snapping her fingers. “Who has my coke?”

 

xxx

 

Katy took him to a makeshift locker room, probably one of many. Boxes neatly organized against the lockers with benches in front of them. She turned to him and gestured at his clothes. She began to search in the boxes.

 

“Do we get weapons?” he asked, untying the laces of his shoes. He slipped them off and placed the sneakers next to each other under a bench. He preferred knowing whether or not he needed to dodge a crow bar being thrown in the ring.

 

“No,” she replied. She shoved her hand in one box and started to rummage through it. “It’s bare knuckles. Whistle blows when the opponent can no longer fight”

 

Jason froze then pulled of his socks. “No time?” he queried. She stopped her search and looked at him, crinkling her nose. He raised his hands and she went back into the box. He brought his knee to his chest with ease and squat down with no problem. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the bench.

 

“There are twenty contestants in total”, she explained offering a pair of handwrap in one hand and her empty palm in the other. “Winner gets 25K”

 

He snorted and emptied his pockets. He glanced at his phone, the button flashed white.

 

“Give me a sec”

 

He opened the phone and saw the message was from [ Liza ](http://oi68.tinypic.com/2na4hut.jpg). Jason smiled and typed back a quick [reply](http://oi66.tinypic.com/15qorqb.jpg)

 

He handed over his phone, his wallet, his knife and his M1911. She stared at the gun and knife. He took the hand wraps and wrapped his wrists and fists. “This tribal knife.” Katy noted, her eyes on the curved blade. “It looks like Rakyat”

 

He clenched his fists, testing the tightness of the bandages. “Yeah,” he answered. She looked at him expectantly, he looked back. Katy pinched her nose and sighed.

 

“You entered last so you will fight the first round” She pointed at the door,a phone beeped. She took it out and read the screen. “A message from Boss” she read it out. “Have fun and win me some money, whitey”

 

xxx

 

The arena was a drained pool. There was no deep end, no shallow end. Everything was level off and one had to climb the pool steps to enter. In the middle of the pool were two Xs facing each other. Jason stepped down and stood on X and his opponent stood on the other. People stood on the bleachers, screaming and shouting.

 

 _“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Balan’s Birthday BK Tournament! Witness twenty contestants, their blood boiling and itching, destroy each other in a bare knuckle match! And I would say it’s all for your viewing pleasure but we all know that’s a fucken’ lie! Now let’s hear it for”_ a pause _“Our resident hipster judging by that smart business beard and, judging by those muscles, the guy who’s going to make jam out of our resident hipster so let’s call him, ‘Splatter”_

Jason didn’t hear the audience’s response. His eyes studying his opponent across from him. The fighter was a tall white man, at least two times Jason’s size. He was a healthy mixture of fat and muscle. His eyes were bloodshot and he kept sniffing as if he had a cold. The lights above them were bright, just short of flood lights bright, yet the Splatter’s pupils remained dilated.

 

_“Place your bets while you can bec-”_

 

Jason felt it. The wave that rushed over him, the silence of everything that roared within him. He heard nothing. He saw nothing but the man who stood before him with his fists held high.

 

Splatter rushed him and flung a punch. Jason ducked and hit him in side of his stomach. The man laughed and kicked him. Jason jumped back and caught his leg. He yanked hard, pulling Splatter in an awkward split, and stomped the knee of the remaining leg. The sickening crunch of the bones being displaced made his grin widened. He released the leg in his hands and jumped back.  Splatter couldn’t move far but he pushed forward anyway. He lunged at Jason throwing another punch albeit slower. Jason caught his arm and grabbed his neck. He kicked the back of the man’s legs forward and pushed him down by his throat.

The moment the man’s back hit the ground, Jason was on him. Straddling Splatter’s hips, he punched him in the throat. Stunned, the man gasped for air and Jason proceeded to rain on the man’s face with his fists. Blood splattered on Jason and the man tried to struggle. He tried to get Jason off but the blows were too much and eventually he stopped moving.

 

And eventually so did Jason.

 

Jason stared at the bloody mess that was once a face. He grabbed the Splatter’s head and smashed it against the floor. He paused and smashed it again for good measure then got up.

 

He glanced around and it was if someone turned up the volume. The crowd screaming around him, the announcer’s voice still booming over the noise.

 

_“What a great fight we just witness ladies and gentlemen! Seems our resident hipster will be moving on to the next round! If you bet on him and won, how wonderful. If you lose, tough shit! But you can still end up in the black if you just keep betting. Possibly! Who knows? Anyway, let’s move on to the next match! Someone get that fucker off the stage!”_

 

xxx

 

By time he reached the finale, Jason’s hand wraps were a deep red and wet. He was sitting on the bench, eyes on his phone and blood still splattered on his cheeks and chest. He scrolled through his IG, liking pictures and commenting with emoijis instead of words. Liza and Keith hugging and grinning at the camera, a roller link in the background. Grant and Ollie at the roller derby match, each holding a huge hot dog lathered with condiments. A selfie of Grant kissing Daisy, the rest making exaggerated shocked faces in audience behind them. Riley taking a selfie of him studying, piles of books and a bigger pile of empty red bull cans. He chuckled, wincing from the bruises on his ribs.

 

Kathy stood at the door like the perfect soldier he suspected she used to be.

 

“You look like you want to say something” he stated, scrolling down.

 

“I didn’t think you would make it this far” she commented. He looked up, there was no disdain or contempt in her tone. Instead she sounded impressed. She continued, “But then again, I also thought you were like us”

 

“And I’m not?”

 

“You’re like boss”

 

“How so?”

 

“Boss is a monster who wears the face of a wolf”

 

“Monster, huh?” he brought his gaze back to his phone. “So what does that make you guys?” He asked.

 

She smiled, hands clasped behind her, “We’re just plain ol' wolves” was the smug reply.

  
xxx

  
_“Ladies and gentlemen, here it is! The finale, the last match that will decide who leaves here 50K richer and who leaves here with nothing but probably a rib piercing their lung! Here are our two finalist: Our Resident Hipster and Our Resident Warlord!”_

 

Warlord flipped the announcer the bird. Jason tilted his head, his eyes scanning the man. Warlord is a Hispanic man, shorter than Jason with green eyes. His pupils were constricted and he took a hit on the splif in his mouth. Warlord chucked it to the side. From the top his eyebrow to the side of his head was a long scar. Warlord smirked at him.

 

Jason blinked and the waves of calm engulfed him.

 

Warlord punched him, he blocked it and caught his hands. He pulled Warlord forward and Warlord blew blue smoke in his face.

 

Jason’s eyes watered but he didn’t let go. Warlord head butt him, snapping Jason’s head back from the force. He heard his nose breaking before he felt it. Warlord smashed his knee into his ribs but Jason’s grip didn’t falter. He pulled Warlord hard, shoulder hitting the man before Jason flung him to the ground. He stomped Warlord in the stomach several times before Warlord grabbed his leg and punched inside knee.  Jason fell on his free knee and punched the man in the face, the hit was weak but enough to get Warlord to release his leg. He rolled on his back and stood up. Warlord got up.

 

“Fuck hermano” the man growled, he spat blood. “Here I thought you fucked your way up” He cricked his neck. “You look the type”

 

Jason felt it. Something simmered inside him, warming the cold that dwell there. He wiped off the blood as it dripped down his chin and grinned, “I wanna fuck up that pretty face of yours”

 

Warlord blinked and his split lip curled into a grin.

 

Jason threw a punch.

 

The longer they fought, the more the fire burnt. He grabbed Warlord by the back of his head and rammed his knee in the man’s face. Warlord picked him up and threw him on the ground. The blow knocked the wind out of him. He snatched his leg and flung Jason against the pool wall. Jason rolled away in time, missing Warlord’s foot in the face.

 

Fire stretched from the tips of his finger to his insides, blazing deep within his soul.

 

It was euphoric.

 

Jason tackled him, slamming Warlord’s back on the floor. Warlord wrapped his legs around him and grabbed Jason’s right wrist with his left hand. Jason tried to fight but Warlord’s right hand wrapped around his neck and tightened. Warlord’s wrist tightened against his carotid artery as his vision darkened.

 

Then he blacked out.

 

xxx

 

Jason jumped up and yelped. His entire body was in agony, he groaned and laid back down. The pain ran under his skin; every step it took was like knives driven into muscles.

 

“You lost”

 

He glanced up to see Bala sitting beside him, filing her nails. He laid his head back down. “Thanks for letting me know” he replied. She poked him with her nail file, he swatted at her and missed. “Pity about your money” he teased. Bala chuckled and pat his cheek, albeit gently.

 

“I bet against you”

 

“Wha-fuck!”

 

She cooed at him and pushed him back down. “I bet you would lose to Warlord” she continued. She flashed a grin, “And you did!” She made a gesture and Kathy handed her the bag of candy cocaine. There was very little left.

 

“Is that why Kathy lied about the money?”

 

“Did it make much of a difference?” Bala questioned between bites.

 

Jason frowned and shrugged, he winced. “It’s not like I cared about money” he replied, the benefits of being a trust fund baby. Bala laughed, her fingers pinching the air above him.

 

“I want to pinch your cheeks” she cooed. “You’re so precious sometimes.” She twirled her fingers. “You’re a simple violent child with simple violent tastes”

 

“I’m twenty-five”

 

“And I’m still older than the mud your ancestors crawled out of” she retorted, licking her fingers clean. “You’re all children to me” Jason raised an eyebrow, she snorted, another guard handed her a wipe and took the empty bag. “Now deep breaths and rest, the doctor should eventually get here”

 

Jason closed his eyes and inhaled through his mouth. The air smelt of burnt candy cane and spoiled pineapples. “I hate sweet grass” he whined.

 

“Shut up and breathe.” she tugged at his hair. “The pain will soon go”

 

He exhaled and inhaled. The pain began to ease itself out of his skin. His body relaxed under the cool air and the softness of the couch underneath him. Bala running her fingers through his hair.

 

“You had fun?” Bala asked.

 

“Yeah” He thought of green eyes and snarling lips. The flames were low but they simmered still. “I never felt like that before”

 

“Sounds like someone has a crush~”

 

Kathy and the other guard coughed. Bala shushed them. Jason blew out his cheeks and scoffed,

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“You know you were laughing the entire time?” Bala answered instead. “Laughing like a barefoot six-year-old discovering mud”

 

“Can’t recall” He sniffed. It was a fight. Nothing more. Nothing less.

 

“So I guess you don’t want his number then?”

 

Jason nearly got whiplash. “What?” he sat up, ignoring the fact that he may have been pushing one of his lungs into a snapped rib. Bala hugged her stomach and looked away, her body trembling. Jason blushed. “Bala!”

 

“Calm down,” she snickered. Kathy stepped towards them, offering a slip of paper. “What was the message again?” Bala questioned, taking the paper from her.

 

“He was confused and wanted clarification”

 

“On what?”

 

“On whether Jason wanted to fuck up his ‘pretty’ face or fuck it”

 

Jason’s cheeks burn. Bala nodded, patting him on the head. “Oh yes, don’t want to get his hopes up”

 

“It could go either way” Kathy stated. “Both actually”.

 

“Evidence points to the latter” the unnamed guard countered with a chuckle. Jason huffed, he snatched the paper from Bala and laid down, his back turned to the cackling trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to experiment a bit with coding in my fics.
> 
> I think simmer may be my favourite world.


	3. Sweet Grass and Warlords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets mighty graphic around here.

Jason was still drowsy when he woke up the third time today. His loft apartment smelt of burnt candy cane and spoilt pineapples and his body demanded more sleep, desperately trying to heal itself from its early morning games. He eyed the strip of paper on the center table, sleep still weighing on his eyes like sacks of sand. It laid innocently enough between his phone and a bundle of sweet grass but it was rattling in his head like drunk boulders in a wind tunnel.

 

How long did one wait before calling the person that beat the shit out of them? He laid back down on the cushion, curling into himself. It was only one in the afternoon, a couple hours since he got Warlord’s number. Was now too soon? Was Warlord wanting a rematch or was he DTF? Because Jason was most definitely DTF.

 

Jason liked gentle like some people liked chocolate. It was something they occasionally felt for but didn’t necessarily need. Rough was different, rough was a craving that needed to be satisfied and Warlord was rough. To feel those hands on his skin, gripping hard on his thighs, leaving bruises and palm prints. Whether it was fucking or being fucked, Jason wasn’t against it. He was just flexible like that.

 

He groaned and shoved a cushion on his face.

 

The incense was still burning on the ground, underneath the flat screen, there was still at least seven inches left. He settled himself in deeper, “Fucking sweet grass” he mumbled. Irritating but useful. It made dropping on his couch from total exhaustion much easier than it would be had he not be numbed as fuck. He shifted again, the bandages on his torso tensed and relaxed.

 

He had showered at Bala’s before Doctor Earnhardt looked him over. Nothing was broken but a rib or two was cracked. He had bruises and swellings on his face, his broken nose especially, that would go down with some icing. For the cracked ribs, the good doctor recommended painkillers and icing it. But rather than giving him painkillers like a normal human being, Bala shoved the bundle of incense and told him to burn it instead.

 

And despite being the person who had snapped a crying man’s arm in a bare knuckle match to the raucous applause of a screaming crowd just a few hours earlier, Jason listened like a good boy.

 

His phone beeped, he took it up and read the message. Groaning, he sent a quick reply and dropped his head back into the cushions. A few minutes passed and his front door opened, Riley stepped out with a heavy plastic bag in one hand and the spare keys in the other. Riley shut the door and paused, he sniffed the air.

 

“What’s that smell?” Riley questioned, he went dropped the bag on the kitchen island and leaned against it. Jason lifted his head up to look at his younger brother. “Jesus Christ, Jason! What the fuck happened to you?”

 

“Bare knuckles competition”

 

“What the fuck, man?”

 

“I lost the final round though”

 

“How the hell did you end up at a bare knuckles competition?”

 

“And what you’re smelling is fucking sweet grass”

 

“You’re not answering my questions, Jason!”

 

“I answered two, now are you going to feed me or what?”

 

Riley spluttered and threw his hands in the air. Jason just looked back in response. Riley sighed and opened the bag. He brought Jason a bacon ham sandwich.

 

Jason loved Riley.

 

“Mom is going to be so mad if she ever found out” Riley commented, still eating his first sandwich while Jason was on his second. “She hates it when you get your face wrecked. She says it’s your only redeemable features.” Jason rolled his eyes and took another bite. Riley insisted on sitting on the couch beside his brother, despite the fact that his **poor** older brother was **basically an invalid**.

 

“Ma wouldn’t mind.” He retorted. Riley scoffed,

 

“Of course **Ma** minds. She’ll tell you to do better, so your pretty face don’t get wrecked in the first place” Riley tossed the sandwich wrap into the bag it came in. Jason made a face but didn’t deny it, their parents tend to agree when it came to their three sons, albeit for different reasons.

 

“How was your exams?”

 

“It was good,” Riley sipped his soda. “Pretty sure I scored an A+s across the board.” Jason took up Riley’s soda and drank. “How has Keith been?”

 

Jason swallowed, “He’s getting better. He’s seeing a therapist once a week and making real progress” He wiped his mouth. Riley nodded, he opened and clenched his fists staring at Jason’s phone on the centre table.

 

“What about …” he bit his lip. “That guy?”

 

“You mean Buck? Oh, he’s dead.” Jason finished his sandwich, he folded the sandwich paper into an uneven square. “He set himself on fire in Keith’s apartment” He tossed the square on the table.

 

“Jesus Christ”

 

“A psycho to the end”

 

“Was anyone hurt?”

 

“No”

 

“How did Keith react?”

 

Jason took a slow deep breath, feeling his chest expand and ignoring the pain as his lungs cleared out. “He can sleep in a bed now” Jason answered. “Before he found out about it, and he’s still doing it”

 

Riley’s body sagged against the couch, with a simple exhale the tension escaped and his brother beamed. “That’s good” he mumbled. “That’s really good” Jason nodded and yawned, cringing slightly from the twinge of pain. He glanced at the burnout incense and frowned.

 

“Change that for me, would you?” he asked gesturing at the bundle and the burner. Riley sighed and grabbed the incense off the table. He did as he was told and the fading smell strengthened. Jason leaned back and closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling.

 

“So Jason…”

 

Inhaling,

 

“Yes, Riley?”

 

Exhaling

 

“Who’s Vaas?”

 

Jason choked so hard he felt another rib crack. Riley raised an eyebrow, waving the slip of paper in his hand and if Jason wasn’t basically an invalid, it would have been a broken hand. He sipped the soda and glanced out the window.

 

“Just a guy”

 

“Uh-huh” Riley twirled the paper between his fingers. He stood up and walked in front of the centre table, out of Jason’s reach. “Shall we play detective?”

 

“Riley, I swear to god –!”

 

“Not someone wanting to hire you, you would have destroyed it already”

 

“I don’t do that anymore” Jason mumbled folding his arms and slouching. Riley ignored him.

 

“So not business then it must be personal. Must be someone from Balan’s party but that wouldn’t make you evasive unless...” Riley covered his mouth with his free hand. “Holy shit dude, did this guy bet on you?”

 

“No”

 

“Oh then why are you so….” Riley glanced at the paper then back at Jason. Jason watched as the wheels began to turn at maximum speed. Then just liked that, a gear snapped and the whole thing broke down. “Dude…is this the guy who kicked your ass?”

 

Jason blinked, “How the fuck did you reach that conclusion?”

 

Riley sat back down, Jason snatched the paper from him. He stared at Jason who was too busy evading his gaze by staring at the paper. He tapped his fingers on the couch arm, “So…” Riley glanced at his brother. “Are you going to call him?”

 

Jason took his phone up, “Do you think it’s too soon?”

 

xxx

 

Vaas danced as he waggled the pliers in the air, the tarp covering the floor crunched under his feet. Amy was sitting at the table, hardware tools scattered on its surface. She had a magazine in hand and her feet on the booming boom box. Rap music poured from the speakers, loud and hard enough to drown out the muffled screams of the white man strapped to the chair in the middle of the basement. Personally, Vaas would prefer something more classical, he WAS in a pretentious mood despite being dressed only in his underwear. But the chubby Asian American made it very clear, “My basement, my rules” and he couldn’t really argue with that. Especially with Reason by her side (Reason was what Amy called her sawed off shotgun).

 

Next to the chair was a small table with a plate and an ashtray for his blunt. The plate held a pile of blood teeth. He took a hit and grinned.

 

“You know hermano, you wouldn’t have so little teeth left, if you had just fucking told the truth” he grabbed the man by the neck, his forefinger and thumb putting pressure under his jaw where his wisdom teeth would be. “I mean; I already know but I need you to admit the number”. He took the blunt and knocked the ashes into the bloody mouth forced open by the white ratchet mouth gag. The man cried but he did not answer. Vaas frowned and relit the blunt. He inhaled and blew blue smoke in the air, he passed it to Amy who took a puff. He stared at the ceiling and glanced back at the man.

 

“CUAL ES TU PINCHE PROBLEMA!” He shouted, grabbing the man by the jaw, he squeezed his mouth. Vaas ignored the painful gasps as he stared in the man’s eyes. Amy handed him the blunt, he took it with his free hand and inhaled. “It’s cool” he mumbled, smoke escaping in short puffs. “I’m cool. You’re cool. She’s cool. We’re all fucking cool, eh?”

 

“That’s pretty selfish of you though, hermano.” He continued. “I took special time to make sure that all of this” he gestured at the basement and chair. “was possible.” He gave the blunt back, “I mean, Jesus Christ, the least you could do was just answer the question.” He waved the pliers slowly in the man’s face. “Come on, abogado. Dime” he purred, the tips of the pliers coming closer and closer to the man’s forced open mouth. “Dime, por favor?”

 

The nose of the pliers gripped a tooth, he started to pull on it with gentle patience.

 

“Hey Warlord”

 

Vaas yanked the tooth out with such fury, bits of gum matter splattered against his cheek. “I told you not to call me that!” he snarled. Amy held up the vibrating smart phone, he blinked at the unknown number. He wiped the bits off and glanced at his palm, “Gross”. He released the tooth to join its siblings then shoved the long nose pliers in the man’s bleeding mouth, cementing it firmly into the gums. Ignoring the strangled screams, he wiped his hands in his pants.

 

“Who’s the mystery number?” Amy questioned, he took it from her.

 

“If I’m lucky, the guy who’s going to fuck my face”

 

She whistled, turning a page in her magazine, “Thought you preferred being the fucker”

 

He snorted, “A man can’t do both?” Amy clicked her tongue and went back to her magazine. He answered the phone, “Hola.”

 

“Hey, Vaas right?”

 

He pat Amy on the arm, tapping her in and walked up the stairs. She sighed and put down her magazine. She took of her shirt and slipped out of her shorts, she put her grey hair in a bun. Amy glanced at the bound man, tears down streaking his face.

 

“Pliers stay.” She decided and took up the hammer and nails.

 

xxx

 

“Hipster! You finally called!” Vaas exclaimed, he shut the door behind him. The kitchen wasn’t anything special, Renters tended to be cookie cutter, no individuality, nothing to differentiate it from the other homes. Other than the fact that the insides were maintained. People weren’t actually living in them, anyway. Most of the homes in this area were abandoned, used mainly by addicts and baby gangs. Renters were homes that were used for business, business usually including kidnapping, hideouts or torture. Renters meant a fully stocked fridge, nice sheets (that would be burnt) and whatever else you were willing to pay for. Vaas proceeded to raid Amy’s fridge (she **was** the one footing the bill).

 

“It’s Jason.” Hipster groaned, “I hate that fucking announcer”

 

Vaas chuckled, “I don’t know man, it seems to fit you”

 

“Well if Warlord agrees”

 

Vaas paused and took out the bottle of orange juice. He opened the bottle, “I take that back, fuck you both”. He took a swing from it.

 

Hipster’s voice dropped an octave. “And here I thought I would have you all to myself” he purred. “I should warn you, I'm not very good at sharing”. And wasn’t that a voice that Vaas wanted to fuck hoarse.

 

“I’m sure we could arrange something.”

 

“Oh my god, just fucking set a date already!”

 

Vaas frowned at the third voice. He took another chug, “Quién es ese?” he asked.

 

“Mi hermano” was the testy reply, Vaas heard a thump followed by an ‘ow!’. Vaas grinned. “el mocoso no sabe cómo mantenerse en silencio”

 

Oh...Vaas grinned wider. Hipster knew Spanish, not high school level Spanish but actually hold a conversation and be snarky in it Spanish.

 

“How about I take you out?” Vaas offered. “Some place nice with music and shit”

 

“Some place romantic?” Jason teased.

 

Vaas coughed, “Depends on your definition of romance”

 

“You cracked my ribs, broke my nose and made me pass out, and I still called. What does that say?” Jason replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

“Well since I kicked your ass, I am going to be a gentleman and allow you to heal...” Vaas checked the calendar on his burner phone, it was an old black Nokia phone, the type that seemed to survive anything from nuclear blasts to a furious Citra. “We can have a date in two weeks time, say the 20th?”

 

“Yeah, yeah...that sounds good”

 

“I’ll message you later”

 

Jason hummed and replied with a soft “Yeah”

 

Vaas hung up and stared at his phone. He saved Jason’s number, mumbling under his breath, “I am so sucking that dick”. Vaas was going to get laid and based on his memories of Jason, it was going to be spectacular. Vaas drained the orange juice and scrawled 'OJ’ on the whiteboard on the fridge. Satisfied with his consideration, but mostly from his future lay with Jason, he skipped down to the basement. He reached the bottom of the steps and in her bloody underwear glory stood Amy.

 

Amy waved with the hammer in her hand, her bra and panties were soaked with blood. The lawyer was on the ground, still bound to the chair, lying on its side. His body twitched so still alive or slowly dying, it was a toss up really. Amy looked at him, the tip of the new blunt burnt bright. She exhaled neon green smoke, she found his fancy stash. She smirked,

 

“He’s a squirter”.

 

Vaas laughed so hard, he agitated his already bruised ribs. “Did he answer?” He asked, peering over the man. Lawyer didn't have a face any more but that was alright, it was much to look at in the first place. He took a puff and wondered where the pliers went.

 

“He said 14”

 

Oh, getting closer to the actual number.

 

“Who was that?” Amy asked, she sat on the tarp laid on the ground and in the fresh pool of blood. “Another?” She gestured at the bleeding man. Vaas sat beside her, and took the blunt. Lawyer was having trouble breathing, it sounded like his lung was punctured.

 

“I don't fuck marks”

 

“Liar.”

 

  
“That was one time! Una vez!”

 

“Sure, sure” she waved him off. “So, who was he?”

 

“Resident Hipster”

 

Amy blinked and laughed. “The guy who nearly beat you?” she clapped, of course she would refer to him as that. Vaas rolled his eyes. “Good job, Vaas. He’s hot as fuck” She clapped him on the back. He shrugged with a smug grin on his face.”If I wasn’t grey, I’d fuck him” He laughed, coughing out green puffs of smoke. She poked at lawyer with the hammer, “So what we doing with pedo over here?” she asked.

 

“Well, stick to the plan” he got up and pulled lawyer off the ground. He wiped the sobbing man’s face, “shhh” he soothed, smearing blood all over. “Here’s what we’re going to do hombre,” he smiled. “We’re going to send all those naughty home movies of yours to your family, your friends and your work place”. He pat the man’s jaw, “Don’t worry it’s just two or three videos. The rest are going to the cops. We already packed up some of your things so wifey thought you’re already on that business trip you lied about. The cops will think you’re on the run but you’re actually going to be buried alive in a nice deep hole”.

 

He looked on the floor, there was a lot of blood down there. “You know, if you don’t bleed out first”

 

Amy raised her hand, “When are we going to unbury?”

 

“Eight months from now”

 

“So scattered pieces?” Amy asked in a hopeful tone.

 

Vaas shook his head. “Customer wants it in one piece, chica”

 

Made identifying the COD easier.

 

Amy clicked her tongue and stood. “I’m gonna shower.” she looked at her bloody feet. “We keeping the tarp?”

 

“Nah, we can burn it with the clothes”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who said romance was dead? Anyway, this is the end?
> 
> Basically.
> 
> The story was just written to help my writer's block. It did. 
> 
> Feel free to correct my Spanish.
> 
> Translation:  
> el mocoso no sabe cómo mantenerse en silencio - the brat does not know how to keep silent


End file.
